


Heart Within Harmony

by dwyndling



Series: chi [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Braveheart - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Gen, Keyblade Wielders (Kingdom Hearts), Keyblade-centric, Keyblades (Kingdom Hearts), Soul Eater (Kingdom Hearts), Way to the Dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22033000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: Tumultuous darkness, sculpted into the finest diamond.
Series: chi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583548
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Heart Within Harmony

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of the decade!

Born from crystalline despair...and into blooming understanding.

It was formed from the darkness in his heart. Destiny warping itself to fit the whims of his fate at the time, coalescing into a blade like a demon’s wing, embedded with a gazing blue eye. How fitting for a boy so consumed by desire, that the weapon which answers his heart’s call is such a warped object.

Soul Eater was not a keyblade. It was barely even a sword. A corrupted and tortured ideal, made manifest in the image of a once beloved wooden toy.

It does not awaken in him any reminiscence towards the stranger on the beach who had once let his small hands alight on the hilt of his strange weapon. Perhaps it is because his thoughts are not entirely his own at the time, or perhaps because he is too consumed to care.

_The past...our childhood...that was what we strove so desperately to leave behind, remember?_

The blade is serviceable, and it understands him well. Too well, maybe, but he does not have time to focus on such thoughts. 

The door, the great white door that brought upon them such fey misery, is shut with a certain finality. The worlds will return. They have been lifted from the darkness, and returned to the light. 

Standing there, alone and gazing around in the shadows, he can only hope such a gentle and merciful fate will be written for him as well.

The basement of the castle is more than lonely, and the sword is a dull weight in his hand. It sparks from the inner reaches of his chest, into material presence, but something lies dead within that connection. The memory of a different light, something never fully realized. 

_Is it the light of what could’ve been? I don’t know._

With mixed feelings, he begins to better understand the feel of it over the course of that year. Knows how to weaponise the balance of it, the touch of it in his gloved hands. It serves him well, in that dull and joyless existence. 

He summons it to his hand no more than he has to.

(Fighting the Nobody is a day he remembers with mingled regret and acceptance. When he later picks up the keyblade that had once been Sora’s, that wicked looking dark key, something thrums lightly in his veins. It’s not his. But something in it recognises him.)

It escapes him which moment exactly that it was when the demon winged blade became something more. It was a slow and gradual burn; an unlearning of pain and a recognition of what cast him into shadows so deep to begin with.

A silvery angel’s wing blossoms from the end of the sword, reminiscent of the teeth of a key. The handle has shifted as well, from a simple hilt into a guard of two opposing wings, one light, one dark.

The very feel of it is different after that, even as events bleed into each other that he can’t keep track of when the catalyst occurred. Perhaps it is not so simple; perhaps the catalyst could not be defined in a single moment, and that is why it escapes him.

Regardless, it is futile to deny that the weapon he summons to his call is now a proper keyblade. The idea fills him with an emotion he finds especially difficult to describe, some sordid mix of pride and undeserving. 

To fight Xemnas in such a way, with a weapon that finally feels as though some unattended need has been satisfied, some inner gap filled, some unfinished sentence finally complete...it is a gift. It is also a gift to fight beside one so dear, after so long without speaking.

It is without a thought or hesitation in that moment that he passes off his own keyblade to Sora’s hands. 

_Whatever strength I may have gathered is his. Now, and forever more._

They defeat their opponent. Xemnas fades into shadow. Riku earns a few injuries, but in the odd calm of those moments, he barely feels them. Leaning on Sora like this...something in him finally feels whole.

When they are called forth for examination, his heart is a stuttering mess in his chest, even as he forces his face to stay calm. There’s no question in his mind that somehow, someway, his darkness will bring him to failure. All he can do is take each step as it comes, stride forward knowing what it is that he strives to protect.

Dreams are yet another kind of darkness. The warm darkness known as sleep is not a friend, but it is not an enemy. It gives way before him, so easily that he delves deeper and deeper into it, straight into the dreams of the boy who was floating next to him.

His keyblade is stalwart throughout the exam. He does not waver, not when he has such an obvious task before. _Find Sora. Protect Sora. Darkness cannot claim what so obviously belongs to the light._

When the dreams give way before him yet again, the keyblade that appears between his grip and the shadowy Sora’s is like none that he’s ever seen. It blossoms outwards with radiance, shining metal arching into petals and vines. 

_It’s so very warm._

Not to the touch. Something within him burns as he wields it, with none of the rage of fire. The sensation is sacrosanct, something he feels afraid to put words to, and breathe into the listening air.

Keyblade Master. 

_I...I did it?_

There is no grand pomp or circumstance, but the quiet approval in Yen Sid’s expression says enough. Sora is excited enough for the both of them, and King Mickey smiles radiantly.

_Keyblade Master. I…_

_If I once understood destiny, no longer. I can no longer guess at what path is laying before me._

_All I know...is what’s most important to me. It certainly took awhile, but I found it. The happiness and safety of the most precious person in the world...that’s what I fight for._

_That’s the reason that this light burns it’s way out of my chest into the shape of this key._

When Way to the Dawn breaks in half, he’s so buoyed by the strength he’s found within, it barely feels like a minor inconvenience. Though the physical keyblade may be broken, the power that wells itself up in the back of his chest is not lost. It glows on, a guiding light that shows him where to put his feet.

The new keyblade...shimmers against his heart.

Braveheart glints dully in the light, a plain silver key, without teeth or a very decorative guard. It’s much larger than any of his previous weapons, somehow both more utilitarian and more charming. 

It’s...new. Different. He gets used to the feel of it in his hands within the day.

He reenters the Dark Realm with new invigoration in his steps. They have a keyblade master to rescue. Aqua will suffer in this awful place not a moment longer than she has to. 

Aqua...the hatred in Aqua’s eyes burns with a certain vengeance that he is all too familiar with by now. The darkness seeps off of her in waves. 

Riku stares her down, and proceeds to battle for his life. The new keyblade does not falter, but the battle is hard fought. When at last as all he can do is murmur Sora’s name, it does begin to feel like it might be the end. 

It is not the end. 

They summon that strange combined keyblade in a blaze of radiant light. It glistens with something Riku does not know how to describe, along with the tightly wound feeling threatening to burst out of his chest. It is not like the keyblade that normally answers his call, but it is not unlike it either. He wonders if Sora feels the same.

The Keyblade War arrives sooner than any of them would’ve liked. He holds his ground against some familiar faces, his own among them, and Braveheart is there, extracted from him like an extension of his own limbs. It’s larger, heavier than Way to the Dawn. But somehow...easier to wield.

_The pressure that used to rest on my heart is gone. Watching Ansem fade like that...I do miss him, in a weird way. But I am lighter for it._

Time, passing like a strange shadow. The fighting continues, until at long last, Xehanort is defeated. 

Sora walks away from them, head held high and shoulders squared. 

Riku does not follow, in a moment he will long regret. The ensuing days...weeks...months...how long was it anyway?

...no matter. 

The world is painted in grey now. Braveheart is the very spine of his heart, a solid pillar of inner strength even as the rest of him feels about to collapse. The darkness of sleep is a warm comfort, drawing him in deeper, deeper, closer to the edge.

Concrete is rough against his face.

Riku stands, blearily staring around at the glowing city. The light urges him forward.

  
  



End file.
